


Love is Blind

by simp_for_women23



Category: Original Work
Genre: Artists, Diary/Journal, F/F, Fluff, I wrote this last year and apparently it's good enough to post, Lesbian, Useless Lesbians, i haven't decided if just fluff is enough, lgbtq+, maybe eventual smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-28 14:15:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 4,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30140823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simp_for_women23/pseuds/simp_for_women23
Summary: Inspired by a prompt: "When people fall in love, they become colour blind, as an artist you've decided that you'll never let yourself fall for anyone."I'm a hopeless lesbian so enjoy, I have no idea how much I'll update this.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Kudos: 4





	1. Day 163

**Author's Note:**

> The chapter is called Day 163, but it's actually chapter 1.
> 
> Please let me know if I've written any BIPOC characters incorrectly! I want to accurately portray everyone and if there's anything that any of those characters say/do which isn't accurate, any tips would be greatly appreciated.
> 
> The same goes sort of for LGBTQ+ characters, I mostly focus on lesbians so if I've written any other sexualities badly, please let me know.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the hopeless romance :)

I painted three more portraits today. It’s getting easier to live in solitude ever since I turned 18. I can’t afford to lose my livelihood, especially since I’ve only just started up my business. My food is delivered and I only text my ‘friends’ once in a while. Sure, it’s hard… but art is everything to me. It’s my livelihood, it keeps me afloat. I’ve sacrificed love and marriage for this but there’s something delicious about knowing that I’ll always have something that most other people can’t. 

Not to say I can’t fall in love, I just choose not to. In fact before I came of age to be affected by colour blindness, I was falling in love left, right and centre. Only passing crushes, but those times taught me a lot. They taught me that true love is never passing. I guess that’d make me somewhat demisexual now but… you know. I don’t think a lot about who I like. I don’t want to risk losing my full colour vision.

If you haven’t guessed already, or are blissfully unaware… falling in love after turning 18 makes you colour blind. I’m an artist, a painter. I do portraits for people. It’s shocking how many people want portraits… especially those who are already colour blind. I think there’s something about being painted by someone who can see in full colour that makes them happy. They’ve lost their sight, but someone else can see them in colour.

And no, the colour blindness that plagues all those lovers isn’t red-green or blue-yellow… it’s everything. They see only in black, white and shades of grey.

Well not straight away, but as they fall further and further into the pit that is love… their vision fades away with them.

It’s horrible, I know.

I painted two couples today and one single guy - he was falling in love though and his vision wasn’t very colourful apparently.

The first couple were two men, gay. They were very clearly in love and I didn’t doubt they were totally colour blind. They sat very closely together as I painted them with broad brushstrokes, my mind wandering. I’d honed my skills so well that I didn’t even have to look for a long time to know what people looked like. Their faces were imprinted in my mind as soon as I saw them.

I switched to a smaller brush and began adding details, little flicks barely visible on their eyebrows and tiny sprays of white to highlight their eyes.

I was done within an hour or two, and chatted over cups of tea as the paint dried. They were both butchers, and used to be rivals. They spent so much time fighting and arguing together that eventually they fell in love. It’s funny how things work out. Tom, one of the butchers, had set up a shop a couple of years ago and had been goaded by Craig, the other butcher, to leave his patch. Two years of battling it out for customers, they agreed to work together and eventually merged their shops. They married soon after.

I handed them their painting after talking for a while and they were over the moon, even despite not being able to see the colours. They walked out the door laughing and comparing each other to the painted rendition. It made me happy I could bring joy to those who had lost something.

The next couple were Asian, a man and a woman. They were very chatty and nattered on as I painted them. They were getting married next week and wanted to present the painting to everyone as a surprise. I studied them closely knowing this, making sure to paint them as lifelike as possible. I used the thinnest brush I had to outline the slight wrinkles they had and painted every hair individually. They had been friends for ages and as sometimes happened, they fell in love and decided to marry. Kim Ji Soo, the woman, was a seamstress and fixed clothes for those who didn’t have much money. Lee Yong Joon was a businessman and the CEO of some clothing company. I didn’t pay much attention, I was so absorbed in capturing them in paint. They left joyfully, admiring the painting.

The final guy was about 20, with sharp blue eyes and shaggy dark hair. He said his name was Lewis. He was quiet as I painted him and something about his presence unnerved me greatly. He repulsed me and attracted me, not in a romantic way, but in a wanting to know more way. He was like a spinning magnet, sometimes answering my questions happily, other times shrugging them off. I gleaned what I could from his little speech and body language. He was apparently a student of music, at a prestigious university, and didn’t care much for art. I asked him why he was here as I finished up dotting highlights in his eyes. The painting was slightly off, and made Lewis look grumpier than he was.

He said his older sister was curious to see my paintings, but she knew I only painted those with colour blindness, and did the 'normies' in any time I had spare. Since Lewis was falling in love, she sent him in her place. 

I was flattered that this unknown woman respected the way I run my studio. I told Lewis that I’d be happy to paint her anytime as I handed him his picture. He grunted and said he’d let her know.

As I locked my door and placed the ‘Closed' sign in my window, I entertained myself about what Lewis’ sister would be like. Would she be musical too? Would she like my art? Would she be an artist?

But most importantly, would she even come?

I shrugged off those thoughts and tucked myself in bed. The nights were sometimes long and lonely, and I’d considered getting a pet many times, except that would mean going outside. Maybe I could find a stray cat, or look after injured birds. My studio was spacious enough for a pet, and at least then I wouldn’t risk falling in love with it.


	2. Day 164

She didn’t turn up today. I’m afraid to say I watched out for her, even though I had no idea what she looked like or even her name.

She could’ve even been one of the four women that came for a painting today.

The first woman, Meg, was a tattoo artist who specialised in black and white tattoos. She was naturally colour blind anyway, so it was hard to tell when she’d fallen in love. I painted her and her beautiful tattoos that curled along her skin. She was very beautiful, with her monochromatic tattoos and multitude of piercings, but not my type.

The second woman, Betty, was very old and frail. Her husband had died recently and she wanted something to dampen the pain. She asked me if I could paint her husband in and gave me a photo. I did my best, but Betty was over the moon and handed me a crystal as she paid me. She told me it was rose quartz, and great for self-love. I thanked her and placed the rock on the table. I didn’t believe in all the new age crystal vibration whatnot, but I kept it as a token.

The third woman was called Ananya, she had moved over from India and wanted something to mark the start of her new life here. She walked in wearing the most beautiful sari, and I spent a long time scribing all the patterns onto the painting. She thanked me and went on her way.

Cassandra was the final woman. She had frizzy hair and youthful eyes and was a landscape artist. She showed me some of her stunning pieces that she’d turned into keychains, and even gifted me one, a landscape of mountains with a slight smattering of trees.

I thought about Lewis’ sister again, and went through the same cycle of creating an appearance, a life story and a name, before stopping myself and eating as a distraction.


	3. Day 165

Today wasn’t a busy day. I had only one man come in. I painted. We talked. He left. I thought about Lewis’ sister, then stopped. I browsed the internet for pets, saw some cute cats but they were too far away.


	4. Day 166

I think this woman is going to be bad for me. I keep on thinking about her, every single day. It’s Sunday, a day for me to take a break from painting and relax. Except… I can’t relax. I take out my set of personal paints and paint lots of basic portraits… of her. 

Broad strokes of brown for hair, a smattering of freckles perhaps, a fringe, piercings, tattoos, highlights, I painted all these different things. I painted all types, lengths and styles of hair, all eye colours.

So many people… and I still didn’t know who she was. 

I didn’t even have a name, or an address, or a phone number, or an email.

No way to contact.

In a way she doesn’t seem real to me. She’s like a deity, faraway, but I know she’s real.

I’m scared I’ll be disappointed when I do see her. That she’ll be unassuming, normal, not special.

I don’t eat as much as I should anymore. Ever since I heard about her I’ve been… different. I don’t want to eat or sleep or drink, I just wait for her, paint out and paintbrush in hand, the other tucked behind my ear as my unruly hair curls around me. I haven’t brushed my hair for days.

I haven’t even opened my fridge.

My shopping is being delivered tomorrow and I don’t know if I’ll have space for anything, it’s all been taken over by her.


	5. Day 167

Lewis dropped by again today. He brought a picture of his sister when she was younger… and her name is Alice. It’s a pretty name, and it made my stomach flip when he told me so freely. It seems he was in a good mood when he asked me to paint her childhood picture. She seemed… happy in the picture. She has brown eyes and hair, a stark difference to Lewis, and almost… dull in comparison. Her brother is so sharp and angular and she’s soft. The photo caught her mid-laugh as she glances sideways to the camera. She’s about 14 or 15 in the photo, her hair dark and straight.

I fetch my materials and get to work. I paint her in rough swatches of colour first then gradually add shadows and highlights, define the details, and take my tiny paintbrush. I flick my brush and paint her eyelashes. My picture is better than perfect, it makes her seen alive. She glows with joy and I snap a quick photo before reluctantly handing it to Lewis.

He’s shell shocked, gobsmacked, mouth agape and eyes wide. He stares at the picture for a good while before pulling me into a hug that surprises me slightly. I return it as warmly as I can, before I have to prise him off me and he has tears in his eyes.

“It’s perfect,” he whispers.

I smile nervously and look to the ground, but he still doesn’t leave. He’s studying me closely, as if trying to create a mental painting of me, and has a half-smile on his face.

I feel sick, and move away, run away into the bathroom, lock the door and sit down, my back against the hard painted wood. I can’t and won’t stop the tears as they fall. 

Lewis is in love with me, I know it. Is this why his sister hasn’t come? Did he lie to me all along just to get to me, to use me?

Does Alice even exist?

I calm down and listen intently. Lewis’ footsteps pace around my studio, then out the door as he leaves. I wait for five more minutes, taking shallow breaths and staring into space.

I can’t walk properly, and I’m jumpy as I emerge. I don’t even notice when my hand clutches the rose quartz I left on the side. 

I don’t eat. I sip some water but I can’t bring myself to open my mouth. I’m frozen and stiff, like a corpse with frostbite.

I find myself thinking of Alice… over and over again. And I think of Lewis again, his blue eyes, the way he smiled. Sure, he’s attractive, but I’m not attracted to him. Men aren’t my thing, really, which means I’m probably a lesbian ~~and will fall in love with Alice~~. Anyway, that’s not going to happen. I’m an artist, not a lovebird. My art is my everything, ~~but what if that’s not everything I am~~. 

I sometimes wonder how my choices led me here. Would I have met Lewis if I didn’t become an artist? Would I already be in love? ~~Most importantly~~ , would I have heard of Alice? I can’t help but mull over this as I put away my shopping.


	6. Day 168

Lewis dropped by… again. He makes me uncomfortable, his presence makes the studio go cold. We stay on opposite sides of the table, our eyes colliding like stars then drifting away. I stare down at my tea, watching it swirl and watching the steam rise up. It touches my face briefly, a caress to tell me I’m not alone, then it dissipates.

“So, how's the painting been?” he asks, trying to meet my eyes. I avoid him, playing cat and mouse with his face as I mumble something and shrug.

I’m trying to think of excuses to make him leave.

“When- when is Alice going to drop by?” I say as nonchalantly as I can.

“Oh! I forgot, she’s got a day off today, I can call her if you want?”

I nod, and inside I’m a knot of emotions. I’m finally going to meet this mysterious Alice.

He pulls out his phone, a shiny new model that I’m immediately envious of. He speed dials Alice and she answers after two rings.

I can hear her voice slightly, it’s deeper than I expect and she talks excitedly to Lewis. She agrees to come over right away.

Five minutes later and I almost jump out of my seat when the bell rings. I wander over and open the door, willing myself not to blush as she steps in.

“Hey, I’ve heard so much about you,” she exclaims, then she pulls me in for a hug. I stiffen, and relax a little to return the hug. ~~At least she can’t see my face, I’m blushing too much and my face is hot~~. She’s graceful and willowy, stunningly beautiful.

Her hair is lighter and shorter, but still straight and dark, her eyes shine like tempered chocolate and her smile is full of the sweetest sugar. She’s soft like a marshmallow. ~~She’s dangerous for me, I know it~~. I smile genuinely for the first time in a while, and she sits next to me at the table. She greets Lewis warmly, and he excuses himself to let “us ladies talk”.

I turned to Alice and we hit off immediately. She’s also an artist, but prefers to draw, and doesn’t do it as a profession. She’s 24, ~~and luckily single~~. She enjoys my company and I don’t shy away from eye contact, like I do with Lewis. 

I don’t think I breathed for the entirety of our conversation.

Lewis poked his head around the door to say he was leaving before the storm was due, but Alice was too absorbed in our conversation to heed his warning.

Five minutes later, as the clock ticks to seven o’clock, a shudder of thunder rocks through the building, and the brilliant zing of blue lightning streaks across the sky. I jump and touch Alice’s hand briefly.

Her dark eyes look at me in surprise, whether at my hand placement or the storm, I don’t know. The sky is almost fully black… I suppose that’s winter for you. I stick my hand out of the window and the rain thrums down onto my skin, cold crystals shattering and spraying out downwards.

I glance at Alice, who smiles.

“It’s raining hard out there,”

“Ah it’s alright, I’ll wait it out,” she says.

I make some more tea, ~~to distract myself, to stop myself staring at her~~. And we sit, in silence that’s punctuated by the sharp misty breath of one of us. 

Crap, the heating’s probably out.

“The heating’s gone again,” I say quietly.

I slink off to try to find some blankets, anything. But, living alone, alas I only have one blanket, and it’s not big enough for two unless they snuggle up.

I mean… I ~~really~~ like Alice, but snuggling up under a blanket after we’ve only just met? Sounds ~~blissful~~ nerve-wracking. I don’t feel like I’m touching the ground as I return, and hand her the blanket.

“It’s fine, I’m used to the cold,”

She looks me up and down in an action that makes me shiver, like the lightning only rages across my skin and not across the sky.

“You’re skin and bones, when was the last time you ate?”

I look at the ground.

“Come on, there’s space enough for both of us,”

She lifts up one arm like a wing and I awkwardly sit. She feels warm even from here, and I have to stop myself sitting closer… lest I do something I regret.

I can’t speak.

She looks at me sideways and stares.

“Sooooo…”

I have to giggle at the awkwardness. It’s such a contrast to our conversations beforehand.

“So indeed,” I say.

“When was the last time you ate?” she reiterates. I gulp. My throat is dry and feels like two pieces of leather rubbing against each other.

“I… I don’t remember,”

It takes too long to find the words and string them together. I feel as if I’m making a necklace but the beads are strung on it wrong. That’s when I notice the chains around her neck, like miniscule, shimmering snakes. Two of them. I try to get a better look but she shifts in her seat and her hair falls around her neck. ~~I can’t help but think of my arms around her neck and my hands on her face and my lips on hers~~. 

“Why?”

Strange how one word from someone you love makes you come undone. My heart flutters and throbs and my breath is a cold mass at the base of my throat. I stare down at the floor, at my crumpled clothes… and at Alice’s shiny boots and neat demeanour, and realise how far away we are, despite being next to each other.

She’s too old.

She’s too old.

She’s too old.

I can’t be with her how I’d want to be with her. Sure, 6 years isn’t a lot… but I’m barely an adult and she’s nearly 25.

I’m sure I sit there for hours, mouth opening and closing like a fish because I can’t find the words.

“We can talk about it another time,” she says. Her eyes are upturned at the outer corners and… beautiful.

The rain is still pouring down, the windows are dewy with water, and the sky is still illuminated by blue from time to time. We sit there watching the rain until the clock ticks over to 8pm.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to leave tonight,” Alice sighs.

“I mean… I don’t have anywhere for you to sleep. I have a double bed if you’re desperate…”

“Only if you don’t mind sharing a bed with a woman you only just met,” she laughs. 

~~Me? Mind? I hoped for this~~. I gulped again. I laughed along with her, then asked her what she wanted to eat. She said anything would do. I didn’t want to risk any adverse effects so I stuck to a quick cook plain quiche and some salad. 

Alice came into the kitchen and leaned on the small counter. I could feel her eyes drilling into my skin, watching my every move. I almost dropped the salad and burnt the quiche. Eventually, I plated up and handed her the other plate. We leaned on the counter facing each other, taking mouthfuls and chewing in time like some strange symphony.

“Thank you for putting up with me,” Alice smiles as she eats. I return her smile warmly then avoid her eyes and finish my food quickly, before I start retching. I probably will be sick later on but logistics, logistics. For now, I had eaten properly.

I walked upstairs, letting Alice awkwardly climb the short flight of stairs behind me. We walked into my room, the ceiling lower than I remembered… I hadn’t slept here for days. 

“I’ll change in the bathroom… Oh wait do you need some clothes to sleep in?”

“I usually don’t wear anything but if it makes you feel better I’ll keep my t-shirt and underwear on,”

I blush and I can’t help but imagine us in bed… ~~with no clothes~~. I grab my top from where it’s crumpled on the bed and slip into the bathroom. I get changed and sit against the door, trying to breathe and stop my heart racing. 

I’m sick down the toilet. My mouth still tastes sour as I return. My bed is next to the wall and Alice is lying so I’ll be trapped between her and the cold brickwork. I move to the foot of the bed and climb under the sheets, facing the wall. I press my forehead against it, the cold seeping into my bones, into my brain, numbing my emotions, dampening the pain.

It hurts to have her here, in my bed, heart beating barely inches from mine. It makes me struggle to breathe and think and feel like normal.

I listen to her soft breaths as I struggle to sleep. She turns over in her sleep and ends up closer to me. I feel her breath tickling the back of my neck and blowing away stray hairs, like a spider gently traversing my skin.

Drowsiness threatens to drag me under but I keep my eyes open just long enough to turn over and stare at Alice in the low light. Her eyelashes droop over her cheeks and her mouth is ever so slightly open. ~~I could kiss her~~. Her hair is a nest of coarse, frizzy strands. ~~I want to touch it, twist it around my fingers, drag her face towards me and kiss her with violent passion~~.

I can’t deal with all these strange thoughts. It’s like a primal instinct was aroused by Alice’s presence in my life, and all I can do is pine for her.

I sift through the layers of sleep, searching for myself as the gentle rhythm of Alice’s breathing throbs in my ears.


	7. Day 170

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very quickly, I'm just going to say I've got some more writing in the works currently and I'm doing a few chapters of this story each week. I'll try to get into some sort of schedule, but I have a few tests over the next few weeks soooo that's fun. 
> 
> Sorry if some of the chapters are a little short, I'm mostly writing this for my own enjoyment. It you have any suggestions or things you'd like to see, please let me know!
> 
> Also thank you so much for reading this, it blows my mind that people actually see it listed and think "hey that sounds cool". 
> 
> I'll stop rambling now, please enjoy :)

I fumble for my phone as the sun streams through the windows again. Loneliness claws at my chest as I turn over and Alice isn’t there. It’s early and the time blurs before me as I see messages from an unknown number.

I open them and my eyes go wide. I’d forgotten about Alice. She’s sent me the photos of her drawing and my painting and I download them.

Scrolling through my photos, I compare the younger portrait I did for Lewis and the one I did yesterday. She hasn’t changed much, but she’s somehow become more beautiful.

My vision blurs again, sparkling as I stand up. I get dressed and skip breakfast, setting out paints and canvases as I wait for customers.

I’m more nervous than usual, fidgeting as I greet people. I have a momentary heart attack as a woman walks in and I think it’s Alice, but it isn’t. As I paint her, all I can see is Alice. She doesn’t seem to notice that I’m not fully here and thanks me anyway. Her smile seems fake and I can’t tell what’s real and what’s just a product of my imagination.

I see parts of Alice in everyone else I paint. I see her in the smiles of young couples, in the eyes of the elderly and in the way sunlight falls across skin. I can’t get rid of her.

I stare at the pictures between clients and as I eat a meagre lunch, washing it down with tap water that tastes slightly metallic. I try to imagine her eating lunch alone. Yesterday’s events are just a ghostly memory, and I struggle to recognise that it happened.

My phone pings with a notification. It punctuates the silence and I read the message. It’s Alice.

_ I really enjoyed spending time with you _

_ I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch? _

I quickly send an apology.

_ Sorry, I just had lunch. _

_ Maybe we can meet Sunday? _

_ I have to work until then. _

She says it’s fine, and we agree to have lunch on Sunday. Only three days until I can see her again. I can survive that.


	8. Day 171

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the short chapter, I haven't been feeling too good lately, but longer chapters are coming!!
> 
> If the kind stranger who gave me kudos is reading, thank you so much! I know this is probably cringy but I really appreciate it and it made my day a whole lot better <3

It’s a busy day today. I should have expected it. It’s sunny today, clear skies and no rain. I’m swept off my feet as people start to queue out the door and I paint multiple portraits at once, juggling palettes and brushes as I read the names of the paints because all the colours are so similar.

Usually I don’t have this problem, maybe it’s just because I’m so busy, there isn’t time to guess which colour is which.

The sweltering heat means the paints dry faster, however the paintings are still just as good. People drop money and gifts on the table and they pile up.

As the evening settles in and the air cools, I look at what they left. Coins, notes, jewellery. There’s all sorts of things and I place them in nooks around my apartment. 

I lie in bed with the blinds pulled down, trying to keep cool. I suck an ice cube until it melts, then another. As the sun sets, I crunch an ice cube and turn over, trying to find the cold part of my sheets.

As I shuffle around, something presses against my skin. It’s a chain and I pull it out from underneath me, gathering it in my palm.

It’s silver, and has a tiny heart on it. Engraved on the heart is the letter ‘A’, and I know it belongs to Alice. I put it around my neck, fumbling with the clasp. I stroke it gently, pulling up the pictures of Alice and looking at them until I fall asleep.


	9. Day 172

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More kudos I'm- thank you so much :D
> 
> The chapter after this is going to be much longer, I'll try to get it out by the end of next week!
> 
> I tell you, actually posting my writing does make me want to write more.
> 
> ***I don't own these images, but here are what the dress and the coat have been inspired by/look like:***
> 
> Dress: http://tiny.cc/s7avtz  
> Coat: http://tiny.cc/t7avtz

Tomorrow, I have lunch with Alice and I wake up excitedly, only a little deflated that it isn’t Sunday yet. She hasn’t texted me anymore but it doesn’t matter.

I ask everyone to smile in their paintings and they laugh with joy as I send them on their way. It seems happiness is infectious today. I paint all the paintings in lucrative warm tones, carefully replicating how the sunlight falls across their faces, trying to take inspiration from Alice and make myself believe she’s here with me.

I even brush my hair again. It’s a tangled mess and eventually I try to pull apart the knots with my fingers until it looks a little more presentable.  ~~ I don’t know why I’m trying to impress her, should I try to impress her ~~ ?

For once, I curse my limited wardrobe and make-up collection. I salvage a three year old mascara and the end of a red lipstick, and take all my clothes out of my wardrobe to find something, anything, beautiful to wear. Most of my clothes are loose and splattered with paint, until I stumble across a long, white dress with an A-line skirt. The neckline is a long, sharp ‘v’ shape and the sleeves reach my elbows. It even has pockets, which I put my hands in as I twirl around when I try it on.

It’s perfect.  ~~ I hope Alice likes it ~~ .

I’m hoping it won’t be too cold tomorrow, but if it is I’ll wear my long, beige felt coat. I touch her necklace where it lays on my neck, wondering if she’s as nervous as I am.  ~~ I wonder if she’s thinking of me thinking of her, if she’s having the same thoughts that seem to turn over and over again in my mind endlessly as the day goes on ~~ .

I take off my dress in the evening and have a shower. The pipes groan and the water runs out thinly, tinted slightly yellow. I wash myself quickly, the water running cold after four minutes that I count on the old clock on the opposite wall.

The evening sets in and I lie on my bed, watching the cracks in the ceiling. I don’t sleep, or at least, I don’t remember sleeping. It seems I spend hours just staring, thinking of her, thinking of Alice and what could happen tomorrow, what she’d going to wear…  ~~ what she’d think of me wearing something pretty just for her ~~ .

~~ I dream of a world where she loves me and I love her and we’re happy, spending days doing art and reading and talking, and we can see in full colour, a world where she’s well and a world where I’m understood, a world without judgement ~~ .

~~ A world where we can be happy ~~ .


End file.
